What's It Feel Like To Be a Ghost?
by tiny vessels
Summary: See, Gabe. This is your fault. Now the poor kid's a ticking time bomb. And, as per usual, you've screwed up yet another good thing in your life. Congratulations.' [Troyella.]
1. One

_"And then you said a little more about your dreams,  
Like it was my call (my call)  
If you would only listen  
Bypassed everything and went straight for the neck  
(I study)  
We study  
(up nightly)  
Dragged you out into the streets  
Before you buckled at your knees (buckled at your knees)" - _Taking Back Sunday

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Black.

Black is the color of Gabe's tux. Her dress is contrast to black; white. Gabe smirks at her from the stage of the hotel ballroom where the medical convention is held, where he, Wes, Adam, and Joey were hired to play as a cover band. Go figure. Go figure that Carlos Montez would see the doctor… woman has had an affair with there, of all places. Gabe knows this. He knows that it's going to happen all over again. It's a family killer. It's going to kill the doctor woman's family just like it killed theirs.

Rip yourself open, sew yourself shut. A line from a Palahniuk novel, but a perfect metaphor for what happened.

She brought her son to the dinner. Apparently her husband had a meeting that night. Perfect. An Evening of extraordinary circumstance.

This is just like Gabe. To play that song while they dance. He knows how to dance. He knows the right moves. It's a simple gimmick of monkey-see-monkey-do. Except in this case its son-see-son-do.

It's the fact that Carlos Montez is Spanish. He can speak it. And guys who have accents or can whisper things in some romance language into your year can get to you. It's that whole romance novel… thing.

Not that cheating is the right way out.

She stares at Gabe, remembering the words he said to her earlier before he even walked into the dinner: "Gabriella, you just don't get it, do you? The goal isn't to get mad; the goal is to get even. An eye for an eye, just like Gandhi. Plus, the poor kid shouldn't be kept in the dark, should he?"

She scoffed at this and shook her head, unbelieving that her father would continue seeing the woman even though she was happily married with a husband and a son. Go figure. People are selfish creatures by nature, they only think of themselves. Her father is only thinking of himself. His needs. Not what he's doing to his own daughter.

Gabe smirks at her son, they know eachother. They were on the school's basketball team together. She just sighs and crosses her arms over her chest tightly. It's unfair for her to watch it.

Unfortunately, seeing these things is like watching a car crash. She feels for the poor kid, but he just should have declined tonight. Said he had a ton of homework. He should have known better. Gabe should know better. But just like a car crash, she can't look away.

Wes should know better than to go along with Gabe in his little heartbreaking plan. It's unfair, as stated before.

She sighs and pushes her arms against her ribs, eyes darting from the couple, to Gabe and Wes, and to the boy. She sighs and looks down at her dress. White. Designer. Around three-hundred dollars. Her flats are white, Steve Madden. Around sixty bucks.

Her half jacket is black, to contrast.

Black is the color of mourning. People wear black at funerals. This counts as an occasion of mourning. Not for her, per se, but for the boy.

His sport jacket and pants are black. His tie is red. Red is a dramatic color, it shows aggression. Cops look for people with red cars, because they're supposedly more likely to break traffic laws.

She sighs and stirs her diet soda with her straw, wanting, wishing to be anywhere else but where she is at the moment.

She feels for the boy, she really, really does. Because he doesn't deserve to have this on her shoulders, nobody does.

She watches in defeat as they face him, dancing close. She would figure it was a salsa dance, if only the woman doctor knew how to salsa. Of course, Carlos Montez does.

She sighs and shakes her head, eyes still on the dirty blonde haired boy. Then to Wes. And then to Gabe, who smirks at her.

And the dancing couple is obvious to the boy now. He watches with disinterest. He knows he has a thousand different places he could be in that moment. His interest is piqued when his mother leans in closer to her coworker. It's common. It's dancing.

It's not common when their lips meet in an extensive kiss. Not a quick peck on the lips, mind you, but one of those full-on, passionate things. One his mother shares with his father, and _only_ his father.

He looks up at Gabriel Montez, who is now looking down at his guitar, and apparently didn't notice.

And he looks over at the girl, Gabriella Montez, Gabe's sister, Carlos' daughter, and she looks like she's almost in tears.

He sighs and looks at his shoes. And he really can't believe what he's seeing.

He's heard about the whole Doctor-Nurse-Doctor love affairs in the hospital, but he never believed that his mother, the Pediatrician, would be having an affair with an orthopedic surgeon by the name of Carlos Montez. It couldn't happen. She wouldn't dare.

She knows better. She knows they've got it good right now. His dad, his mom, and him. They have it good.

And the only thing that could possibly goes through his mind, does.

_This can't be happening._

And she shakes her head, poor Troy Bolton.

Poor Troy Bolton never saw the signs, the calls, the 'I'll call you, don't call me,' the deleted e-mails, the secrets, the 'I'll be home late, don't wait up.'

And honestly, poor Troy Bolton never knew what hit him.


	2. Two

_"But now we must pick up every piece  
Of the life we used to love  
Just to keep ourselves  
At least enough to carry on"_ – Neutral Milk Hotel

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She hated going to the East High office for Gabe.

Gabe, Gabe, Gabe. He had a tendency to be like her father and only think of himself. Go figure.

She walked through the white and red halls of East High, Doc Martens making loud clacking noises on the tile floor.

She had come straight from school, parked the BMW out front, and ran inside, figuring he'd gotten an injury playing basketball, or something. She continued walking quickly toward the office, eyes ahead, until, that is, her eyes fell upon a poster advertising the basketball team.

She would have usually rolled her eyes and scoffed at this, but the enlarged picture of the star player baffled her.

See, you weren't supposed to ever see the kids of the bitch your dad's screwing. Not ever.

You can feel for them, sure, they're in the same boat as you, even though they may not know it; but you're not supposed to _see_ them or get close to them. It was one of she and Gabe's rules of the game.

But, oddly enough, there he was, basketball jersey and all. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Bothering with Troy Bolton was a lost cause.

She pulled her blue St. Patrick's Catholic School hoodie closer to her body, and suddenly thought she should have gone home and changed into something more normal, not her school uniform.

Regardless, she continued on her way towards the office.

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Gabe sat in one of the red chairs in the front office, waiting for his sister.

Knowing her, she'd come in all flustered, still in her St. Pat's uniform, and think he'd busted his head open, or something.

He just needed to bum a ride to the hospital his mom worked at. Plus, he had a Home Economics project about fetuses that would kill him if he didn't get at least a B on it.

And it helps tremendously if your mother is an OBGYN.

And your father is an Orthopedic Surgeon. The head at the Hospital.

He yawned and stretched, looking to the door. He saw Jack Bolton enter and nodded curtly to him.

"Gabe Montez, what's you do this time?" the Coach asked jokingly.

Gabe just smirked and leaned back, "Oh, nothing big. Just started a food fight, you know, the whole nine yards."

"Well, practice is tomorrow during your free period–"

"GABRIEL ARMONDO MONTEZ SALAZAR!"

His head shot up with a jolt and he turned to see his sister, fuming at him, causing him to smirk.

"Hey Gabriella." he said coolly.

Coach Bolton arched an eyebrow and looked over at the fuming girl, then to Gabe, and then back to her.

She sighed, "I drove all the way from St. Pat's, almost got a speeding ticket, and almost got into a wreck, and you're not even injured?!"

Gabe just shrugged and smiled, "Sorry?"

She shook her head and rubbed her temples, "You better be."

Gabe looked from his coach to his sister and smiled, "Coach Bolton, this is my sister, Gabriella. Gabriella, Coach Bolton."

She plastered a smile on and stuck her hand out, "Gabriella Montez. Sorry about the outburst earlier. I just had to drive all the way from St. Patrick's because I thought _Gabe_ had gotten a concussion, or something. But apparently he's just fine."

Coach Bolton just smiled and shook her hand, said his goodbye to Gabe, then headed into the principal's office.

Gabe just stood and brushed his pants off, smiling at his sister. "Well, can you escort me to the hospital? I need to talk to mom about something fetus-related."

Gabriella just opened the door and escorted herself out, "Aw, did you knock another girl up?"

Gabe just glared at her, causing her to smirk. The final bell rang and the two looked at eachother, jogging down the hallway towards the outer doors.

Apparently they weren't quick enough, because the cheerleader and basketball brigade had caught up with Gabe and were chatting animatedly. Gabriella just leaned against a locker and sighed, rubbing her temples again. A concussion-less Gabe she could deal with, but not his cheerleader and basketball groupies.

Gabe didn't even hang out with them. Gabe hung out with Wes and the so-called "rocker kids."

Because he was in a band. It made sense. Sure, he played basketball, but only because it looked good on scripts for college.

She yawned and shook her head and took note of Troy Bolton in the group, talking to Gabe about something. Again, Gabe was going against the rules they had so carefully put together, like a thousand piece puzzle of the Eiffel Tower.

Gabe, Gabe, Gabe. She sighed and whipped out her phone, quickly sending him a text saying that she'd be waiting in the car.

He looked over at her and cocked an eyebrow, then gave her the one minute sign. She just rolled her eyes and sighed, exiting the building.

She was quickly followed by Gabe, and oddly enough, Troy Bolton. Again, breaking the rules.

Quickly unlocking the white BMW, Gabriella got in the drivers side and started the engine. Gabe just frowned and offered Troy shotgun, then seated himself in the back.

"Since when did you get the beamer? That's not fair."

She shrugged and threw it into reverse and pushed play on her iPod, causing light music to flow out of the speakers. "Since mom hit her mid-life crisis and bought a new Benz. I needed a car anyway; I couldn't keep bumming rides from Lily. And it is fair. Dad bought you a brand new Volvo last year."

She pulled out of the school and turned to Troy, quietly fuming at Gabe. She'd have to call him tonight and discuss the rules of adultery. The ones they had established two years ago after their parents divorce. "Where to, boys?"

Troy looked back at Gabe, who shrugged, "The hospital where your mom works, I guess. We have to finish our project on Fetuses, anyway."

She just nodded and got into the right turn lane to head towards the hospital. Gabe just frowned, his nose wrinkling as if smelling something bad.

"I thought you were going through your chick rock phase right now." he said with a frown.

Gabriella laughed, "Well, I've never exactly been a chick rock fan, isn't that like Jewel, and stuff? Because I'd hardly consider Bikini Kill chick rock."

Gabe just shook his head, "Change it. You know I hate Bikini Kill."

Troy looked over at Gabriella, who merely shrugged and handed the white iPod to him, "Pick something." She said casually and took a left down a tree-lined street.

Troy scrolled down the iPod, with slight interruptions from Gabe, who would shake his head and grumble about whatever he had picked.

After five minutes of going up and down the 'Artists' section of his sisters' iPod, Troy and Gabe finally settled on a song by the Raconteurs.

"I'm impressed, Gabe. Your basketball people actually have taste in music."

Troy shrugged and smiled, "Thanks, I think. You have pretty good taste in music, too. I've actually heard some of the stuff you have on here."

She nodded as she pulled into the hospital entrance, "Well, I must admit, I'm pretty impressed. You should have Gabe show you his record collection. It's a mini treasure chest of stuff. I think he's got some old Rolling Stones stuff, it's pretty authentic."

She pulled to a stop in front of the Women's center and unlocked the car doors. Troy thanked her, and got out, while Gabe stayed behind.

He leaned forward and messed with her iPod, putting on an old Bright Eyes song and then looked at his sister, "Look, I'll explain later, okay?"

She just nodded and sighed, "Fine. But it better be a pretty damn good explanation."

He just nodded and smiled, "And Dad's out of town this weekend, so I'm having a party. And I want you, Wes, Adam, Joey and Company to play. Allright? I mean, Wes' band is playing… and my band's playing. And I want you to play, too."

She just shrugged and sighed, "I'll consider it. Give me a call later tonight, okay? And tell mom to be home by nine, please."

Gabe just nodded and swiftly kissed his sister on the cheek.

She had no clue how much he sacrificed daily just to keep under control about the whole divorce thing. And how hard it was to even be around Troy's father. It took effort. And patience.

And Gabe would be damned if his life got out of control because of Troy Bolton's mother. Out of Control wasn't an option.

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hi guys. Thanks for reviewing, and stuff. But I really want more feedback on this story. So, Feedback is super appreciated. Tell me how I'm doing. I love constructive criticism and pretty much everything. Anyway. How are you?


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